In a year filled with world politics and tragedies, it’s only fitting triumph was a common theme found in music during 2014. For every senseless crime, there was a gratifying album in direct response to it. Those seeking self-love and acceptance found comfort in the arms of Perfume Genius and Jack White. Those looking for poignant social commentary discovered it through the words of Run The Jewels. Moreover, those who yearned for isolation found solace in Angel Olsen’s latest album. In between all of that were three career defining releases from St. Vincent, The War on Drugs, and FKA Twigs. Our list highlights 20 albums that are all pleasing distractions during this time of uncertainty.

Way Too Indie’s Best Albums of 2014

#20 Ty Segall – Manipulator

Manipulator is a wormhole consisting of atoms that are charged from the past and atoms reinterpreted for the present. Manipulator is a murky mix that only a producing maniac like Ty Segall could release. Ty has a deep discography that would take weeks to dissect, yet he is only 26. If Jack White is the hardest working man in rock music, then Ty must be his crazy stepbrother. This isn’t your father’s rock and roll or the 90’s Nirvana off shoot band your brother started in high school. Manipulator is a fast, grimy, blazing sound that embodies everything Ty has been working towards. This album truly sounds like an artist who cannot foresee not putting out his creations. Vacuumed in an airtight room, the album kicks off with the title track. It rides under an overcast and fuzzy sky of its influences where the drums, guitars, and Ty all squeal.

This album is a cornucopia that has been reshaped with sounds spanning different genres. At the same time, Manipulator also feels personal. “The Clock” tackles the burning desire of an artist who sees time as a small window for creativity and output; “The Singer” is a tale of how fans sometimes fail to appreciate the showmanship of art because they always want more. The theatrical highlights include “Tall Man Skinny Lady” and “It’s Over.” Manipulator floats on a hazy comfortable horizon. It delivers some truths and mounts Ty as the brightest student from the rock and roll school of thought. [Sami]

#19 Alex G – DSU

DSU is a strong poetic beauty. Alex G humanizes various tidal waves of emotions in a category that manages to leap outside the boundaries of dream pop and lo-fi. Sharp and short whimsical flavors structure this full-length, as Alex sounds about as wise as your father. It’s refreshing to encounter a project from a youthful songwriter who writes in a succinct and ageless voice. The lyrics are surrounded by familiar sounds that contain their own quirks and riffs. Alex G is a serious songwriter; his sound is vibrant with or without its influencers. DSU feels sensible, but a closer look reveals an adolescent façade. It’s a lush garden of prosperous lyrical landscapes. The dream-chasing “Harvey” is an ornament for anyone working towards something special. Even with a short life span, “Harvey” manages to induct pleasant-sounding grooves and proves to be Alex G at his best.

There are many other standouts. “Promise” is an eclectic mix of funky drowning sounds lost in a dreamland. The dense drums intersect to produce a sweet aural hallucination. Dazzling instrumentals also create a nice contrast to the dim lyrics of “Hollow”, where Alex kicks this track into a smooth four minutes. In just this short time, the ambiance goes from a grunge essence to something trance and then to something tame. “Boy” is a gem. “I am not the boy you knew”, Alex vows in this coming of age song. It’s quaint and ends with a grand piano. From the deeply emotive “Sorry” to the last track “Boy”, much of what Alex G accomplishes creates a desire for his next move. [Sami]

#18 White Lung – Deep Fantasy

There are EPs longer than this album, yet here it is on the list. Deep Fantasy is actually pretty shallow in terms of its lengths; where the depth appears is in the low-pitch, rapid guitars, militant percussion, devilish shrieking, and harrowing lyricism. Guitarist Kenneth William hits virtually every guitar note possible throughout this album, Anne-Marie Vassiliou storms the field with her steadfast drumming, and vocalist Mish Way ignites the fire burning in front of these songs. Her lyrics, which balance the personal and the political, provide the true fuel for the flames: check the eating disorder study “Snake Jaw” and the ailing sexual assault victim anthem “I Believe You” for proof. The latter track is a pretty succinct summary of Deep Fantasy’s unique flicker: listen to the passion with which Way consoles her friend that, despite the constant social and institutional tendency to doubt or dismiss rape claims, she wholly trusts her friend and encourages her to stay strong and fight for justice. The assertiveness of this stance is brashly echoed by her band’s hyperactive, harsh punk and her searing beckon, a combination that pervades this 22-minute Fantasy. [Max]

#17 MØ – No Mythologies to Follow

Possessing pop versatility is a true art that took MØ only one album to achieve. No Mythologies to Follow is a cohesive, ironic blend with a touch of mainstream sensibilities. MØ translates to virgin or maiden in Danish, but this album never alludes to its freshman status. At her very best, MØ’s formula for success is undressed and unedited. Many layers of synths, vibrant bass, thick, clashing drums, and the sweet influences of electronic music fuse neatly. There’s a satisfying mixture of accessible sounds combined with her own independent quirks. “Glass” doesn’t play coy and quickly drops the line, “Oh dear one turn the lights off/So our horny souls can have some private time.” It’s a whirlwind of pleasing tones mixed with tempting drums and disdained lyrics about growing older. Most songs are a heavy packet filled with a very zealous workload. That’s not such a bad thing when she creates tracks like “Maiden” that have waves of surging synths that transport listeners with her delicate and mystical voice. “Pilgrim” features running horns coated against clunky and infectious claps. No Mythologies to Follow is a welcomed aggregation of sounds that positions MØ towards pop star status. [Sami]

#16 TEEN – The Way and Color

“It’s so not personal” is the first phrase heard in TEEN’s “Not for Long”, the second track from their sophomore album The Way and Color. The irony here is that, well, the songs here are pretty damn personal. “Sticky”, for example, contemplates the spectrum of consequences that accompany an abortion; “Breathe Low and Deep” portrays a defeated narrator doing her best to cope. The weight of these stories might explain the major leap in songwriting from TEEN’s past work too. The same band once hauntingly distant from listeners on their debut now engage the ears with excellent vocal harmonies, flowing melodies, ominous psychedelia, and dreamy ambience. Whether via a groovy, uptempo escapade like “Tied Up Tied Down” or a more introspective stance as on “More Than I Ask For”, TEEN’s new compositional advancements consistently result in entrapping, gorgeous, afflicting psych pop. And all of this is obvious even before catching them in concert, a tremendous live show which seems to have gone overlooked by the community at large. At this rate, though, not for long. [Max]

#15 Real Estate – Atlas

There’s nothing idyllic to see here. Atlas is not a roadmap towards sunny waters. This album is a chamber of deep isolation that is thoughtfully constructed. At every corner, it is constantly reaching out for answers, as seen through relatable human emotions. Soft and clean guitars are still present as the band hands out a chronological guide. It’s easy to view this collection of songs as a series of inevitable events. It’s simple and timeless as Real Estate ventures to the past. The guitars and drums are so soft that they feel like a warm blanket of pillows. When they sing about going back to an unrecognizable hometown years later, you feel it. When they sing about a long distance relationship, you understand it. There’s a sad and poignant moment on the record where lead singer Martin Courtney, wonders if his words are resonating with whoever he is speaking to. “And I might as well be talking backwards/Am I making any sense to you?” he says in a melancholy voice supported by charming and sunlit instruments. Often these songs offer glimpse into the heart of someone searching for something tangible. Atlas is all encompassing journey for anyone who has ever faced an existential crisis about love or life. [Sami]

#14 Mitski – Bury Me at Make Out Creek

If this list were based purely on lyrics, Bury Me at Make Out Creek might be #1. Mitski Miyawaki wastes not a single breath, each and every word she utters as haunting and evocative as her newly intense, overwhelming instrumentals. “You’re the breeze in my Austin nights”, “I want a love that falls as fast as a body from the balcony”, “One word from you and I would jump off of this ledge I’m on, baby”, and “I don’t smoke except for when I’m missing you/to remember your mouth, how you tasted true” are only the most startling of the countless melting turns of phrase present here. These words are often accompanied with little more than a static, fragmented wall of guitar fuzz and unsettling drum machines, yet impact with the magnitude of a musical army. On the other hand, Make Out Creek is also full of sparser moments, but these are equally powerful. The almost violent guitar punch defining the latter half of opener “Texas Reznikoff” is just as heartbreaking as the spacious, steely dirge of “I Will.” This latter track may initially seem like the one song here on which Mitski has conquered her loneliness, but it’s actually a summary of what she wishes someone would say to her. If that’s not both tremendously upsetting and eerily beautiful, as is the entirety of Make Out Creek, then nothing is. [Max]

#13 Jack White – Lazaretto

Jack White is an Etch-A-Sketch. Categories, genres, and preconceived notions don’t apply here. His first solo album, Blunderbuss, was an aggregation of fire, electricity, and passion. Naturally, we all expected Lazaretto to be the fast spitting fire ball of energy that Blunderbuss was. When the lead single “Lazaretto” first dropped, the hip hop elements synced perfectly with his electrically charged vocals. Ultimately, Lazaretto set a precedent that no two Jack White projects will ever be the same. The album was inspired by a collection of poems and short stories that were written by Jack when he was a teenager. Those poems and stories served as the source materials for each song. Unbounded by his inspirations, Jack still inhibits his usual buoyancies and daze. The solely instrumental “High Ball Stepper” is an animated and lively track that serenades until the very end. It encompasses different densities and textures as Jack sweeps around different tints and shades. Quaint bluesy qualities are featured on the song “Entitlement”, while “Temporary Ground ” feels very Nashville. Lazaretto is an interesting Jack White album because it feels very bombastic and also tamed. It is consistently inconsistent. It is a melting pot. [Sami]

#12 Caribou – Our Love

In 2010, Caribou’s best song up to that point in his career, “Odessa”, placed him as the fly on the wall of a constantly fighting couple’s bedroom. Although vocalist and songwriter Dan Snaith expressed proper sympathy towards the relationship’s victimized female, he never offered any solutions for her to escape her pitiable state. On Our Love, his first album since then, he still doesn’t seem to have any answers, but he’s now writing from a first person perspective rather than an outsider’s point of view. First track “Can’t Do Without You” bemoans Snaith’s loss of a lover rather than proposing any method to get her back, and it’s not much longer before “All I Ever Need” is simply another list of woes. No complaints, though; if these troubles are leading to songs as cosmic, smooth, and hallucinogenic as these electronic jams, then let’s hope Snaith’s problems dissipate via some external force rather than his own resolution. Our Love is overflowing with gorgeous, colorful synth work that’s as entrancing as it is mobile. The title track is simultaneously warm and danceable, and “Mars” puts some serious swing into its trippy prettiness. The influence of R&B and deep house, novel informers for Caribou, account for Snaith’s newfound ability to merge the psychedelic, the heartfelt, and the body-moving. Check penultimate track “Back Home” as the strongest example of Our Love’s brilliant approach: a slowly bubbling piece of mind-melting R&B that ascends from ghostly vibrations into head-thumping wispiness, it’s the peak of a formula that consistently entrances across Our Love’s ten whole songs. [Max]

#11 Tennis – Ritual in Repeat

Nostalgia can be a knife in the back or a prosperous recalling. Tennis’ Ritual in Repeat is a testament to the latter. This husband and wife duo formulates a more grandiose and powerful record that both emulates the past and presents their own swatches of sounds. Rather than drowning in their influences, Tennis manages to bounce from decade to decade smoothly.
The roller skate jam “I’m Callin” sounds like an early 90s Celine Dion track that got stuck at an 80s dance party. There’s a noticeable dichotomy that latches onto this album. Stripped away and running free is when Alaina Moore’s voice is most exposed and empowering. However, this record also contains tracks that evoke a singalong jam band aura. More specifically, “Needle and The Knife” easily permeates through the track list with its tightly coupled percussion and string instrumentals. Ritual in Repeat marks the creation of their own wanderlust persona. Tennis avoids circles and stigmas by delivering one of the most likable records of the year. [Sami]

#10 Run the Jewels – Run the Jewels 2

“I’m finna bang this bitch the fuck out!” says a nuclear Killer Mike. The next three minutes are the beginning of a fueling atomic bomb. Run the Jewels 2 is an action-packed, pressure-pointing push against the chest, as Killer Mike and El-P instantaneously huff audacious lines. Towering over pompous beats, the duo creates stacks and layers that have contrasting tension. RTJ2 is a bombastic social commentary with strong meaning. The kinetic energy is high as Killer Mike aggressively asks for rival gangs to unite and El-P testifies that the court system is out of order. They take you down deep and brazen tunnels with lyrical traps like “You know your favorite rapper ain’t shit/And me, I might be/The closest representation of God you might see.” RTJ2 is still a captivating, fun time. “Close Your Eyes (And Count To Fuck)” is a nuclear power plant that generates invigorating energy. There’s a sharp chemistry between the duo that doesn’t feel calculated. At times, Killer Miller sets the stage for the main action, and El-P smoothly completes the cause. RTJ2 burns your skin, injects some social topics, and delivers a great time. [Sami]

#9 Makthaverskan – II

These five young Swedes use the English language better than many native speakers do. Where many of today’s best musicians get by on poetic, extravagant lyricism, Makthaverskan instead use the most elementary of words and images to achieve emotional resonance. The cries of “Fuck you! Fuck you!” that pin down “Antabus” could easily originate from the mouth of a histrionic teenager rather than these heavy-hearted 20-something-year-olds, and the piercing despair of “I don’t know where you are tonight, but if you want I’ll take you back” that grounds the chorus of “Something More” could fit inconspicuously on a pop punk record. Rather than obfuscating their pleas with dense wordplay, Makthaverskan can afford to be this upfront since their delivery is so genuine. “It’s not me you’re dreaming of!” might sound whiny and immature in worse hands, but Maja Milner’s urgency and her band’s Goth-drenched, new wave-indebted instrumentals ensure that these words land as potent daggers rather than as ignorable pouting. Makthaverskan’s cocktail of direct, heartfelt singing, dreamy, gorgeous, incisive instrumentation, and straightforward lyricism aren’t new in name, but rarely have they been combined so grippingly. [Max]

#8 Ava Luna – Electric Balloon

Brooklyn’s Ava Luna are the precise sum of a few very well known musical kooks (Deerhoof, Pixies, Dirty Projectors), yet have a fanbase that’s merely the size of their underground friends and soundalikes Krill (who, unrelated, are set to release one of next year’s best albums). Their mastery lies in their ability to spin the idiosyncrasies of their popular influences into a sound that’s uniquely theirs despite its obvious forebears, so why aren’t more people listening? Almost everyone who enjoys the music of their influences is bound to enjoy them, but few have discovered the flavorful gem known to the world as Electric Balloon.

Give it time, though. More listeners are bound to stumble upon this wonderful, jagged, soulful, experimental rock group; it’s inevitable with tunes this distinct and dissimilar. What other band could include a stuttered, manic punk barker like “Daydream” on the same record as the yelpy, teasing funk strut of “Sears Roebuck M&Ms” and make them sound like the same artist’s vision? Better yet, how many groups could place these two songs back to back and make them flow as though nothing about each is different? Maybe the same musicians capable of the stop-and-start fury and quiet of album highlight “Plain Speech” could. Clearly, Electric Balloon is a wacky, diverse collection – the flamenco-like “Aquarium” precedes the earnest, gleaming comedown of “PRPL” – and fans of the unhinged will flock to it in due time. [Max]

#7 Cloud Nothings – Here and Nowhere Else

On Cloud Nothings’ 2012 breakout Attack on Memory, songwriter and vocalist Dylan Baldi was furious about his dejection, resulting in eight harrowing post-punk gems that turned heads and attracted new fans. Two years later, Here and Nowhere Else shows Baldi finding the silver lining in his woes rather than just complaining about them. The album conveys that the new, more mature Baldi acknowledges his troubles, finds solutions to them, and successfully executes these strategies. This evolution results in a somewhat brighter, more developed sound, although the album is still consistently dark and noisy.

The mild reinvention of Cloud Nothings’ sound is evident the moment the album starts. “Now Hear In”, the opening track, begins with a traditional power chord riff that’s only barely overdriven, as compared to the scathing distortion of Attack on Memory tunes such as “Wasted Days” and “Our Plans.” The lyrics that soon follow contain a sliver of optimism previously unheard in Cloud Nothings’ work. “No use remembering how it used to be serene/And I can’t feel your pain and I feel alright ‘bout it,” Baldi muses about a failed past relationship, choosing to move on rather than drown in his self-pity. “You don’t really seem to care, and/I don’t even talk about it” from “No Thoughts” later echoes this sentiment, one which pops up constantly throughout the album.

Of course, we’re talking about Cloud Nothings here; even with a brighter mindset, Baldi knows he’s best capable of expressing emotions through noise, and there’s no absence of it here. His constant tightrope walk between lyrical positivity and angry noise dictates Here and Nowhere Else’s success; check the ascension from faintly sunny, clearly sung garage punk to sweltering noise barrages on tracks like “Psychic Trauma”, “Just See Fear”, and “No Thoughts” as proof. There’s no shortage of explosive, frantic drumming on these songs either, so it’s interesting that final track “I’m Not Part of Me”, which contains only the poppiest elements of this album, tends to be its best regarded. Maybe this acclaim stems from its bold statement of the album’s thesis: “I’m not telling you all I’m going through/I feel fine,” declares Baldi, and his confidence and hopefulness embody his latest masterpiece. [Max]

#6 The War on Drugs – Lost in the Dream

Lost in the Dream is the kind of treasure you hope to find in your grandparent’s attic. Adam Granduciel knows how to craft transatlantic gems. Each song feels like its own climatic mini-series. The craftsmanship that was put into this album was very labor intensive in the way that it feels like hurt, despair, confusion, pressure, love, and triumphance are all pillars that construct this album. In order to write songs like, “Under the Pressure, Granduciel had to experience the loss of both love and his identity. Consequently, Lost in the Dream is the rebirth of a resilient soul. As album opener, “Under the Pressure” is a slow-moving master and a victorious ride. At the end of the track, Granduciel manages to crack that, “Well I’m surviving, under the pressure.” This propels an emotional voyage.

Granduciel recreates his stories for a timeless journey. A picturesque dystopian vibe lends its hands to “Suffering” as he wonders about the destruction of his relationship. “Suffering” is the kind of heartbreaking trip that leads to the creation of conquering jams such as “Under the Pressure.” Its slinky guitars offer a comforting ride. The passionate lyrical content makes it possible for most songs on the album to be about five minutes long. No song on the album exemplifies an aching and healing heart as well as “Eyes To The Wind.” This song represents the part of the movie where the main character finds the strength to start moving on. A zoned out saxophone compliments the triumphant atmosphere. Elsewhere, the title track hits like a ton of bricks lyrically. When Granduciel sings, “Lost in the dream, or just the silence of a moment/It’s always hard to tell, down in the way they cut it open and they sold it/It’s always hard to tell”, it becomes so easy to view life and love as an unwinnable game. However, even Granduciel doesn’t mind losing, because he now acknowledges that loss is just a necessary pre-arranged fragment of his life.

It is fitting that “In Reverse” was the last song written, and is appropriately the last song on the record. It recalls important phrases and sounds from most of its predecessors. “In Reverse” is a self-awakening feat that takes months to discover. Ultimately, many will call on Tom Petty or Bob Dylan as obvious influencers, but Lost in the Dream is the setting stone that the band needed to blow away all that chatter. This album is an epic Americana journey that chronicles a lost soul who completely finds the strength to refocus on his dreams and self again. [Sami]

#5 Perfume Genius – Too Bright

No one uses pain as a muse better than Perfume Genius. He crafts daggers that rupture emotions and send all feelings spiraling. Mike Hadreas also has perfect timing. Better yet, his music has always been culturally relevant. In 2012, Hadreas released the music video for his single “Hood.” That same year, marriage equality gained serious momentum and support. In the video, his eyes were a deep color of melancholy. The camera zooms out and it’s revealed that Hadreas is in the arms of another man. They are domesticated and in love. This relationship is a beautiful figuration of love but Hadreas’ past still haunts him. Regardless of sexuality, this is a strong human emotion. Unfortunately, there were many people who left hateful comments on the video’s YouTube page; however, none of them could take away its importance and significance. In just two years, many states have allowed same-sex couples to marry. This theme of toleration and equality is prevalent in Perfume Genius’ lead single, “Queen.”

“Queen” is a personal statement of endearment that unshackles Hadreas from his critics and his past work. His previous album, Put Your Back N 2 It, was tame and subtle. This new album is instead bold and risky, which is evident in the very first track, “Decline”, where Hadreas sings, “No thanks, I decline.” Specifically, he declines all judgments and notions. Too Bright is a bag of new tricks that contains the murky and dirty “My Body” and the finger-snapping bar blues tune “Fool.” Things get unpolished and industrial on “Grid” as it perfectly personifies any American Horror Story soundtrack. Perfume Genius isn’t afraid of bizarre, gritty, or grimy sounds. He still gets intimate and doesn’t lose his competent lyricism. Tender touches are available on songs like “Don’t Let Them In.” Too Bright shrieks, breaches past uniformity, and reshapes hate into a powerful project. [Sami]

#4 Spoon – They Want My Soul

They’re asking just the right band. Elements of soul have lied at the periphery of Spoon’s music for a while now; whether in the raspy, shaky vocal delivery and tipsy pianos of “All the Pretty Girls Go to the City”, the sensual pleading of “I Turn My Camera On”, or virtually the entirety of Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, Motown’s sheen distantly informs this veteran band’s music. But now they want Spoon’s soul, after almost two decades in the game, and the band’s response seems to be tucking it away more than even before. Although flickers of soul’s influence still tend to pop up in Spoon’s pianos, They Want My Soul is their most pop and rock-oriented album, although it still bears the marks of their oddball take on straightforward styles.

If any Spoon album were to pleasurably beat listeners to death, it would be this one. Opener “Rent I Pay” picks up where the crushing pounders of previous album Transference, a somewhat but undeservedly maligned part of their catalog, leaves off; rarely have Spoon’s guitar smacked listeners’ faces harder. The hard groove of “Rainy Taxi” and the deep-fried chords of “They Want My Soul” achieve the same effect, engaging the ears with more aggression than we’re used to from this band. Sure, past greats like “Don’t Make Me a Target” and “My Little Japanese Cigarette Case” strike with great weight, but the stomp of lead single “Do You” resembles a low-Richter earthquake by Spoon standards. This lead single’s sun-soaked guitars, skip-hopping pianos, and almost-coughed vocals aren’t necessarily a new approach for these guys; rather, they’re just taken to their maximum here, as on many songs.

Yet despite the abundance of relative skull-crushers here, They Want My Soul is responsible for some of the most eerie, gentle, unrelentingly gorgeous moments of Spoon’s extensive catalog. Final track “New York Kiss” pours a hint of new wave into its nostalgic melancholy, ending the album on a surprisingly sober, aching note. Far earlier in the album, “Inside Out”, arguably the best song Spoon has written in seven years, is the closest listeners will ever come to crying along with the band. An unexpectedly haunting, pristine piece of restrained synthpop (!!!) with maybe the most fragile lyrics in Spoon’s discography, it’s a track that songwriter and frontman Britt Daniel told The Guardian is “the most beautiful thing [Spoon has] done.” Even though Spoon may be protecting their soul for the moment, a track this beautiful attests to the striking humanity they’ve achieved for not nearly the first time in their career. [Max]

#3 FKA twigs- LP1

A strong visceral string pulls at the core of everything that FKA twigs produces. Intriguing textures, contrasts, and vibrancies all result in LP1 being the most resilient visual album of the year. The album package has a certain Mona Lisa-esque puzzling aesthetic that is graphically interesting. The sleeves for the album feature crumbling, melting, distorting versions of the main album art. In totality, the album art, tracks, music videos are a unified front. The album art quantifies a very somber and an almost sorrowful twigs. The center of her face is colored with red, blue and purple. Red is a color that represents a burning passion, desire, sexuality and romance. On the other hand, blue embodies wisdom, loyalty, truth, and confidence. Purple demonstrates luxury, power and mystery. A passionate red, a confident blue and a very mysterious purple all manifest themselves on this album. LP1 is a portrayal of basic human emotions from an artist that is often personified to be extraterrestrial or unearthly.

It can be said that 2014 went through an alternative R&B phrase. However, none stimulated this genre more than twigs’ “Two Weeks.” An alien beat treads lightly as it marries with twigs’ sensual voice. Her voice is as commanding as every word she sings. This is where the red, blue and purple collide. There is explicit desire, shades of an intensely confident blue and a very mysterious purple. This is definitely the kind of song that every artist should hope to write. It’s an audio stunner that exemplifies the best in rhythm and blues. Twigs projects a stealthy and mysterious image; however, the song “Pendulum” is far from otherworldly. It showcases relatable human emotions. “Pendulum” is a soulful song where an eclectic mix of pleasing sounds lies underneath her as she vocalizes. This track demonstrates a different kind of desire than “Two Weeks.” This time it’s less about sexual desire and more about desiring loyalty. Desire is a strong thematic field that keeps this album together.

Various audiovisual instrumentals invite momentum to each song that is often enthralling. “Lights on” is an intense flame where twigs confesses that “when I trust you we can do it with the lights on.” Similarly, “Kicks” is bursting with imagery of twigs slowly releasing herself from the robust, magnetic desire. Her ethereal delivery matches her fragile state of mind. LP1 succeeds because it is a conglomerate of visual and sonic unity. Twigs has earned a 2015 Grammy nomination for Best Recording Package. Her imagery is mesmerizing, colorful and subtle and therefore, it’s a good sign that the Grammys have recognized an artist who has unique layers. [Sami]

#2 Angel Olsen – Burn Your Fire For No Witness

Now signed to a bigger label and empowered with a full band to record with, Angel Olsen’s Burn Your Fire for No Witness takes all manner of creative leaps with her unique fusion of folk, country, and blues rock. The album is distinctly memorable for how many diverse templates it applies over its runtime, and how brilliantly it succeeds in each mode it attempts. Drumless folk hum is as abundant as both roaring, howling rock stompers and twangy, country-lit musings. Even with Olsen’s flexibility boosting her songs’ quality, though, it’s her voice, both lyrically and musically, that shines most strongly throughout the album.

Opener “Unfucktheworld” is an extended false start for Burn Your Fire; its diminutive, bare-bones folk in no way anticipates follow-up “Forgiven/Forgotten”, a window-shattering anthem of loneliness. Elsewhere, “White Fire” delivers a boldly haunting starkness, and “High and Wild” marries cowgirl boots with piano that nearly recalls good ol’ ragtime. The stylistic bending that drives this album keeps it consistently entertaining, and also contrasts the constance of isolation, despair, and anguish as lyrical themes. “Stars” details the complications of escaping an emotionally abusive relationship, and “Enemy” and “Iota” may detail similar failings. “Unfucktheworld” depicts attachment from a distance, where as “High and Wild” explores the same feelings from a much closer perspective. Each of these songs varies in sound, yet thematic consistency ties them together excellently.

Where the intersection of topical uniformity and stylistic deviance truly meets here is the ineffable, primal power of Olsen’s voice. Her singing is always deeply mournful and pained, whether over a music bed as dim as that on “Dance Slow Decades” or one as earnest as “Lights Out.” This latter song is both the album’s midpoint and the true meeting of Olsen’s vocal talent, emotional discovery, and genre tendencies. Its desolate electric guitars gleam slowly and with no distortion, but make up for this lack of drive with plenty of reverb and eventual phaser. Its vocals are likewise as haunting as they are haunted, ranging from a broken vibrato to a tough bellow. Musically, it lies between the extremes of folky softness and bluesy abrasiveness that define the album’s best moments; wordwise, it sees Olsen giving advice to someone who may well be herself. “Some days all you need is one good thought strong in your mind,” Olsen reassures whoever is listening, a moment that’s both this song’s and the whole album’s peak. In other words: keep the fire burning, even if no one’s around to witness it. [Max]

#1 St. Vincent – St. Vincent

Perhaps the best feeling in the world is to observe a talented person finally garnering the widespread recognition she deserves. After seven years of slowly gaining the undying respect of independent music lovers, St. Vincent, real name Annie Clark, showed up on pretty much everyone’s radar in the year 2014. If year-end lists were based purely on the amount of blogging, discussion, and hype behind an act, St. Vincent, her self-titled fourth album, would top each and every one. It just so happens that the constant conversation is justified: all mythology aside, St. Vincent is this year’s most forward-thinking, individual, bizarre, spellbinding album. Rather than merely standing well ahead of the curve as on past releases, Clark is now transmitting from a level on which only the most revered of legends operate.

Clark’s enhanced spark may indeed come from the abundance of time she spent with a living legend. After releasing the David Byrne collaboration Love This Giant in 2012, the two toured together, and it’s clear from both the newly reformed St. Vincent live show and the funk experimentation of this album that his influence seeped directly into her blood. Where would the electrified, digitized stutter of “Rattlesnake” be without albums like Remain in Light? In what world devoid of Byrne’s strangely enticing musical oddities would a song like “Bring Me Your Loves” be feasible? The unspoken advice of a musical god informs St. Vincent, but Clark is talented enough to adapt his methods into a cocktail all her own.

That a new Clark would manifest on this album was immediately apparent when she released first single “Birth in Reverse” in December 2013. A blitz of technical guitar playing and shifty rhythms unlike anything she’d previously done, come February, fans would realize that much of St. Vincent would match the bar set by this first preview. “Digital Witness”, the album’s fulcrum, saunters down the runway on the weirdest synth-guitar interaction this side of Kraftwerk; “Psychopath” shakes and quivers just as oddly. Yet these are quite evidently pop songs despite their weirdness; “Regret” and “Every Tear Disappears” are among the best examples present of Clark’s juggling of straightforward appeal and weird wonder.

At the end of the day, this is a trick that only St. Vincent could pull off, which is why the album is self-titled. Clark has said that the title also stems from this album sounding more like her true self than ever before, which makes sense given that “Prince Johnny” and “Huey Newton” quite clearly recall the grey hues of Strange Mercy. That Clark can still pilfer from her own past a bit while leaping forward so daringly is reassurance to longtime fans that this seven-year ride to ultimate, ubiquitous respect has been unflaggingly worth the wait. [Max]

2014 was truly a mesmerizing year for the recording industry. Many songs captured the aura of something special and unforgettable ranging from a lo-fi prince, an esoteric R&B goddess, an alternative rock queen, and a heartbroken Swedish indie pop star. Our list contains tracks that managed to redefined genres and consequently solidified an artist place in music. We traveled back to the beginning of the year, explored the mid-year releases and reminisced over songs that came out over the last few weeks. Sounds tantalizing? Check out our favorite songs of 2014 below.

Way Too Indie’s Best Songs of 2014

#20 Alex G – “Soaker”

“Soaker” is a candid peek into the eyes of sluggish adolescent love. However, Alex G’s symbolism is anything but juvenile. This short and intimate track personifies the love of two people as equal to the density of water and glue. Alex’s introverted and steady singing builds rapport with the listener, and it’s easy to see why critics are keeping a watchful eye. His downhearted lyrics do not travel around the parameters of the truth. “Soaker” is a direct admission backed by casual and simple guitar playing. There is no climax, rising action, or resolution. He only presents his conflict. The song begins and ends with “All I ever do is soak through you.” It’s refreshing to hear that somebody doesn’t have all the answers to this thing called love. [Sami]

#19 Mr. Twin Sister – “Out of the Dark”

“I am a woman/but inside I’m a man and I want to be as gay as I can.” It’s a fitting line for a band that just added a male prefix to its female-gendered name, and it fits into today’s intersectionality conversations quite well. The band formerly known as Twin Sister clearly knew what they were doing when they made this line the most memorable part of their third album’s best song, “Out of the Dark.” Even against the already gripping 4 AM clomp of warbly, muted synths and clomping percussion, this pitch-shifted, robotically vocalized statement stands out audaciously. Its placement just before a louder, Thriller-meets-The-Knife groove is excellent thinking too. Subsequent sounds further establish an appropriately menacing, assertive stride, ensuring that this song is as fluid and dynamic as its narrator’s gender. [Max]

#18 Two Inch Astronaut – “No Feelings”

Has anyone embodied their label’s name this well? Two Inch Astronaut’s “No Feelings” is the standout track from their sophomore effort, Foulbrood, released on consistently excellent small label Exploding in Sound, and it quite literally explodes in sound. The dissonant guitars spanning its introduction lead to unsteady six-string shuffling during the first verse, and this tension is searingly resolved with an explosive chorus. Dynamic shifts outline the remainder of this song, and this constant switch between pummeling and reserved makes for uneasy but poignantly incisive listening. [Max]

#17 Chromeo – “Jealous (I Ain’t Wit It)”

Creating a sustainable algorithm that features shades of funk and electronic music requires really good chemistry. Rhythmic masterminds Chromeo have already perfected that art. “Jealous” is completely inundated in a thick sea of slick funky goodness. They downright live by the rule that funk is a way of life. This track is a fun burning tease that showcases their vulnerable side. Chromeo has created an anomaly with this sound. They function in a genre different from most, but still manage to polish songs that are sellable and commercial. This song is progressively powered by its up-tempo beats accented with catchy lyrics. This echoes summer music festivals, and even in the winter, it keeps warm and ready for June. [Sami]

#16 Mitski – “Townie”

Why wouldn’t Mitski Miyawaki’s dad wouldn’t want her to sound like this? “I’m not gonna be what my daddy wants me to be!” Mitski wails during the overblown, pounding chorus of the strongest track from her incredible third album Bury Me at Make Out Creek. It’s a lyric that almost anyone can relate to – who hasn’t rebelled against their parents here and there? – and it’s just as biting as the rest of the song’s words and guitars. The chorus’ first line, “I want a love that falls as fast as a body from the balcony, and/I wanna kiss like my heart is hitting the ground”, describes desire in an unusually precise and intense manner, and its follow up, “I’m holding my breath with a baseball bat/though I don’t know what I’m waiting for,” conjures images of paralyzing horror movie villains. The emotional depth of these lines sticks like the strongest of adhesives, and Mitski’s guitars only add to this deeply potent cocktail. The ridiculously distorted blur of her power chords shout as loudly as their creator’s voice; together, the two soar into a growling overdrive that no father could ever resist. [Max]

#15 Todd Terje – “Delorean Dynamite”

We used to think that the only thing stopping the computers from going full Terminator on us was their lack of language and emotion, but to disprove this notion, there exist electronic instrumentals that communicate pure dance and lust to us. Enter Todd Terje’s “Delorean Dynamite” as 2014’s shining example of this capacity for machines to strike our most sensitive nerves. It’s a song that doesn’t need inane lines like “Rock yo’ body!” or “Boogie to the groove now!” to make its listeners to do exactly that, and its disco overtones are bathed in Saturday Night Fever vivacity. Without any manner of words at all, “Delorean Dynamite” shakes, rattles, and rolls with a retrospective, jubilant groove that’s as confident as it is glorious. The constant shuffle of its warped, colorful synths pairs excellently with its jaunty drumline and peripheral splashes of feel-goodness across five-and-a-half addicting minutes of dancefloor dominance. When the machines take over, it better be as fun and sexy as this. [Max]

#14 Lykke Li – “No Rest for the Wicked”

Channeling heartbreak into one song is no easy task. On her latest album, I Never Learn, Lykke Li utilizes the disintegration of a relationship as the arc for her entire record. Much like the movie Blue Valentine, there is no happy ending. This track in particular is a sincere, self-inflicted tale. Her account is gripping and downward spiraling as she sings through the complete collapse of true love. From the miserably sharp piano notes to the climatic and confessional ending, this track reeks of someone slowly finding closure. The heavier the instrumental gets, the more open Lykke becomes.

The cover art for this album features Lykke guarding her heart with her hands. The irony of this track is that she reveals she was responsible for the breakup. There’s a deep, troubling, sympathetic remorse that concludes this track. This song beautifully depicts an unraveling state of mind. [Sami]

#13 Ty Segall – “Tall Man Skinny Lady”

There’s a bubblegum element to this track where tiny and sweet elements leave a sticky trace in your head. It’s pure rock and roll, and downright absolutely fun. There’s a live video on YouTube that is perfectly indicative of the above. The clunky drumbeats encounter Ty’s super charged guitars and when they both meet at the intersection, a cloudy mix of head banging goodness is created. The song is less about profound lyrics and more about parading rock music in a grand fashion. A track with only 11 lines isn’t looking to rely on its meaning. This track is only here to have fun. The energy boils to a hot temperature and “Tall Man Skinny Lady” ends at a pinnacle. [Sami]

#12 Mac DeMarco – “Passing Out Pieces”

We are living in the era of clickbait. BuzzFeed does it and so does Pitchfork. With competition so high, who has time to play it safe? When Pitchfork does it, they are essentially using musicians as tools for views. More specifically, when Mac DeMarco antics go viral, music blogs often try to outdo each other for the craziest headlines. “Passing Out Pieces” is a penned diary entry where Mac wonders about overextending himself to the public. He ponders on whether to be reclusive or accessible. It is a simple tale of celebrity that only some can understand. The one-track-minded instrumentals project noticeably in front as Mac shares just enough to make us feel concern. Sometimes it feels like a midlife crisis, and other times it feels damn near relatable. It’s his invitation for a smoke where Mac is waiting to bare his soul. [Sami]

#11 Chance the Rapper – “No Better Blues”

It takes seven seconds for this track to walk to a ledge and poetically jab society in the face. At forty-three seconds, everything descends into despair. Reinforced by a spoken word ambiance, “No Better Blues” evokes a poignant social commentary. Chance spells out negativity towards the simple building blocks of society. This tense satirical stance offers glimpses of how easy it is to be negative about anything. Chance growls, “I hate the optimistic smirks on the face of children.” He raps about his hate for rain, his wife, his job, and his home; however, he’s merely giving us a reflection of our own pessimism. It’s a nice warm blanket of contradiction that suffocates everything until the very end. Trudging drumbeats elevate his mockery and commentary. In his closing remarks, Chance points his fingers at those who are constantly being negative in a world with so many good things by saying, “I fucking hate you.” File “No Better Blues” next to “Paranoia”, because they both offer key insights into the darkness of human emotion. [Sami]

#10 Cloud Nothings – “Psychic Trauma”

Cloud Nothings’ radical shift from lo-fi bedroom guitar pop to visceral, seething punk rock continued in grand fashion with this year’s Here and Nowhere Else, within which third track “Psychic Trauma” best outlines this Cleveland trio’s unique spark. A slow dirge of an intro ascends into a furious chorus of motion-sickness drumming and a frenzied, asymmetric guitar roar, which then further evolves into a bestial display of songwriter Dylan Baldi’s vocal flexibility. The guttural, broken screaming that defines this section of the song follows a despondently sung chorus, a contrast that illuminates the primal power of Baldi’s resilient voice. It’s not long before a varied version of the verse and chorus appears, and these moments provide a nice appetizer for the noisy thrash that defines the song’s last minute. Here, guitars fly flagrantly, drums smash with the urgency of wartime weaponry, and a cathartic rush of dissonance and chaos fills the soundscape. Forget Baldi’s chorus complaint of “my mind is always wasted listening to you”; “Psychic Trauma” provides a challenging, brain-bending form of garage rock that remains uncommon in a ubiquitous genre. [Max]

#9 White Lung – “Drown with the Monster”

A track with this titular sentiment is probably a protest song. Press play, and the lacerating, borderline heavy metal guitar work suggests this initial notion to be true. Except it’s not: “Drown with the Monster” is a highly personal song, as are many of the tracks on its mother album Deep Fantasy, about overcoming all manner of doubts and inwardly directed hatred. The titular Monster isn’t a corporation or an awful war machine; it’s instead a representation of how mental instabilities can lead to situations as damaging as drug addictions and unhealthy relationships. White Lung vocalist Mish Way is known to write about self-empowerment rather than just complaining, though, and “Drown with the Monster” is a potent example of her lyrical style.

“Take these sights in!” Way commands during this song’s pre-chorus, a statement that shortly precedes her observation that “The water looks good on you, yeah.” Way knows that the monster can be drowned, and even encourages its captives to go down with it. “What better way to fix your problems than to fully take control of them?”, she asks over her band’s guttural guitars, frantic drums, and demonically heavy sounds. She’s got a right to ask: what makes this song so great is that Way is indeed fully control of the chaotic music below her voice. After listening to “Drown with the Monster”, the only addiction anyone will have is to this song. [Max]

#8 The War on Drugs – “Red Eyes”

Hearing “Red Eyes” for the first time was like hearing a pulsing wavelength that created its own mark in my head. A dichotomous wave pulled on my eardrums and created a thin layer of an intimate cloud set in a giant stadium. It was odd and ambient. Lead singer Adam Granduciel creates songs that are elongated and mystical. In just four minutes, the band had solidified its place on many top songs/album of 2014 lists. There is nothing overrated about this track. There’s a wondrous marriage of pianos, guitars, and magical synths. It’s easy to get lost in the sonically hypnotized instruments, but the lyrics themselves are standouts. They have definitive textures of heartbreak and partial hope. As Adam’s voice seemingly drowns out, he gets more personal and reveals that, “I would keep you here, but I can’t.” He slowly triumphs over the instruments, and it sounds both emotional and gratifying. [Sami]

#7 Shamir – “On the Regular”

This is my national anthem. Seriously, this should be a national anthem that clubs everywhere ought to be required to play. This colorful and personal hymn is Shamir’s personal statement to the world. The twisting disco sounds seem designed for the not so hidden whiplash of self-assured lines. The saucy chorus serves several nice and syrupy lyrics. Witty tricks like “Guess I’m never-ending, you could call me pi” demonstrate that Shamir is clearly coming into his own. With each new track, I am even more intrigued by his vibrant spirit, complexities and influences. [Sami]

#6 Jack White – “Lazaretto”

“Lazaretto” is Jack White at his most pompous state of mind. His voice is brawling and each energy source is elevated ten notches higher than usual. As soon as this track enters the party, it steps up as the confident guy at the center of the dance floor. Jack glides along the pathways of being bombastic, but he curves, and also punches critics with a solid blow by time the chorus comes through. His signature guitar playing drives a strong electric charge, and by the time you pull out your air guitar, Jack is already spitting that, “They put me down in the lazaretto, born rotten, born rotten.” For a long time, Jack has been walking the fine line of becoming an iconic musician and being a really outspoken personality who sometimes draws harsh criticism. Lazaretto, both the album and the single, is a tale of someone who is cognizant of both perceptions. Lazarettos are often used to quarantine sickly people from the public. Using it as a symbol for his self-reliant nature, “Lazaretto” becomes a self-fulfilling story. Jack shatters any shackles and jumps right through the negativity.

It’s bold and suggestive and that’s why it fits. A fuse is lit and everything is quiet for just one small second. A small tumultuous burn bakes to such a high temperature that everything is kicked into a high groovy atmosphere. It’s sonically satisfying as Jack sharply screams. The drums give an added boost as Jack says that, “I’m so Detroit I make it rise from the ashes.” The last minute is an exposition of violins, guitars, drum and blues rock heaven. Jack concludes by breaking out of the Lazaretto. [Sami]

#5 Angel Olsen – “Lights Out”

Angel Olsen doesn’t need lights to occupy a room; no, her voice can do that just fine. At an intimate solo acoustic session in a Philadelphia record store this past May, Olsen hushed a small crowd with the immense power of her singing, which consumed the room even at its quietest. She only played a handful of songs during this session since she had a full band show a couple of hours later, but she was certainly consistent, sticking with the mournful acoustic numbers in her catalog rather than the striking electric rockers from this year’s excellent Burn Your Fire for No Witness.

At the middle of both these two Olsen extremes as well as of Burn lies “Lights Out.” This solemn, lovelorn tale replicates the desolate guitar work of her drumless acoustic folk tunes in its verses, only to blossom into a more obviously electric, percussion-laced chorus. Each approach is equally haunting, and both fit perfectly within the framework of a single song. Olsen’s stirring sounds nevertheless play second fiddle to her words, which fans and critics alike praise for just how harshly they stick. “Lights Out” might contain Burn‘s most relatable, heartbreaking sentiment: “Some days all you need is one good thought strong on your mind.” Olsen’s pain is evident throughout “Lights Out”, but this line in particular drives home her emotional state, ensuring that some days, all you need is one good song strong on your mind: namely, this one. [Max]

#4 Caribou – “Our Love”

Dan Snaith, better known as Caribou (although he used to go by Manitoba), is a touring musician who also has a doctorate in mathematics. Clearly, Snaith is an incredibly intelligent guy, and his unusual mind has allowed him to consistently compose cerebral, hallucinogenic music for just over a decade now without losing steam. His smarts ensure that whatever experiments he undertakes will be successful, and the deep house exploration that is “Our Love”, the title track from his sixth album, is no exception.

“Our Love” continues Snaith’s Swim-era shift towards electronic music and away from shoegaze-psychedelic hybrids. That’s not to say this song isn’t trippy as hell (it is); rather, it just approaches mind-melting from a different angle. The rounded synth work and drilling drum machines of deep house form a cornerstone for this song’s woozy, R&B-esque psychedelia, imbuing it with both a resonant tug and a shifty beat. Snaith repeatedly croons the song’s title, and only its title, for roughly its first half, which features a short string section courtesy of friend and collaborator Owen Pallett. When these strings arrive, it’s clear that this song will be going to higher places quite soon, and a break roughly three minutes in confirms this theory. A low-rumbling synth pattern accompanies propulsive drum work that’s equally appropriate for both mindless swinging and blissful ruminations, eventually gaining volume and force to evolve into a swirling frenzy of dancefloor beauty. No wonder Snaith isn’t doing much talking; with instrumentals this poignant, who needs words? [Max]

#3 Perfume Genius – “Queen”

Shoving his piano ballad typecast moniker aside, Perfume Genius fully embodies a brazen pop star worthy of challenging negativity into a powerful statement. “Queen” features a stimulating juxtaposition between its muscular oomphs and its wailing instrumentals as Mike Hadreas takes menacing homophobic stereotypes such as “riddled with disease” and punches them with the triumphant and down right cocky resolution that “no family is safe when I sashay.” Mike’s bold soliloquy is a razor sharp gash in the face towards backwards sentiments. Self worth is a beautiful thing and no one expressed it better than Perfume Genius in 2014. [Sami]

#2 St. Vincent – “Rattlesnake”

“Rattlesnake” dominated the promotional campaign for St. Vincent’s fourth and best album, one which is also self-titled. When asked why she waited this long to self-title an album, St. Vincent, real name Annie Clark, said something along the lines of this being the album where, for the first time, she truly sounds like herself. An astute observation: the 8-bit synths of “Rattlesnake” in the album’s opening slot is a stance that Clark is here and Clark is now.

One of the weirdest-sounding songs ever recorded, “Rattlesnake” is a freakshow that only minds as witty, unhinged, and daring as Clark’s could ever achieve. Even though it’s so zany it sounds extraterrestrial, its story happened in real life, right here on Earth. While recording St. Vincent, Clark explored the desert behind the studio, and realized she was alone there. Having the freedom to roam in the nude, Clark did just that, only to eventually hear a rattlesnake hissing at her feet. Running home with no clothes on, Clark worried that she might die there alone, and that no one might ever find her. The fear and anxiety she might’ve experienced then is blatant throughout “Rattlesnake”, but it’s also coupled with funk and groove.

Clark’s matching of opposites isn’t an easy task, but Clark pulls it off fearlessly and damn near perfectly. Her verses’ wails of “wah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah, ah!” overlie creaking, flashy synths and heavily reverbed drumwork, which all deftly anticipates the furious funk of her chorus’ guitars. “Am I the only one in the only world?” she asks often throughout the song, a question to which the answer is usually no. But change it to “Am I the only one in the only world crazy enough to pull this weirdo trickery off?”, and the answer is a clear yes. Add the decade’s most insanely laser-gun guitar solo to boot, and you’ve got a gem that only hints at the madness to come throughout the rest of the album. [Max]

#1 FKA twigs – “Two Weeks”

When this song first arrived here from whatever foreign land it originated, it was coupled with one of the most fascinating, endlessly rewatchable music videos in recent memory. First listens of the menacing, trap-oriented, sex goddess anthem “Two Weeks” were almost always accompanied with the Aaliyah-worshipping video, which begins with FKA twigs, real name Tahliah Barnett, decked out in gold atop some sort of well-deserved throne. As the video progresses, the camera slowly zooms out from Barnett to reveal that her seat is far taller than the background dancers (which might actually all be various edited-in copies of her), implying her grand power. The video’s images are not only impossible to shake when listening to “Two Weeks”, they’re also perfect partners to the assertive, bold sexual stance Barnett takes in this song.

In a culture where men are praised for their sexual prowess and women are shamed for it, it’s remarkable to hear a song like “Two Weeks”, in which Barnett simultaneously declares that she is an excellent sexual partner, that she is allowed to feel and express lust in the same manners as men do, and that she and only she is in control of her body and her decisions. These are brave statements in a still sadly backwards society, and Barnett is perfectly suited to challenge norms. The hype that brought her to her present state of universal acclaim stemmed as much from her unusual aesthetic and dress style as it did from her warped, fractured take on R&B; she’s been turning heads from the start.

It’s interesting, then, that “Two Weeks” is, sonically, the most straightforward, and thus far best, song in her catalog, with all due respect to the incredibly worthwhile “Pendulum.” Against its left-field music video and uncommonly expressed (but likely universally felt) sentiment, the song’s gently pulsing bass drums and waveform, glitchy synth track are conventional by FKA twigs’ standards. The lopsided rhythms and anxiously minimal digital sounds that command most of her songs are instead replaced with a standard pop song form and radio-friendly instrumental work. This dramatically contrasts the lyrical content, which uses an almost hilarious amount of profanity to get its message across. “Higher than a motherfucker dreaming of you as my lover” is the chorus’ lyrical anchor, and it’s maybe the most repeatable phrase of the year despite being unavailable for airplay. Likewise, “Give me two weeks, you won’t recognize her” is just one of many other memorable statements made here as well. The lyrics may be unsettling for some, but if that’s the sacrifice Barnett has to make to feel comfortable in the pop songwriting mode that’s unfamiliar to her, then it’s a concession damn well worth making. And comfortable she feels: not only is this her best song, but it’s both the year’s best and one of R&B’s strongest in quite some time. [Max]

Stream the Best Songs of 2014

I have to hand it to music critics, myself included to an extent: this year, we’ve become masters of overhyping albums that really aren’t all that great. A painful reminder of this trend comes around this time of year, since it’s already halfway over: music writers ask, “Where did the time go?” and answer this inquiry with lists of their favorite albums to be released so far during the year. Many readers who are constantly immersed in the music blogosphere learn nothing new from these lists, since the same group of albums is discussed for reasons that describe nothing about their sound. Rather, opinions on albums that are actually pretty weak are shrouded in obtuse references and pretentious ideology, guarding a questionable opinion in words that make it sound reasonable.

Way Too Indie seeks to write about how music viscerally and genuinely affects listeners rather than discussing abstract topics not wholly connected to the sound. For this reason, we’ve also chosen to publish a list of our favorites of the year so far, with the intention of discussing why they sound good, not what makes them philosophical masterpieces. This is an unranked list; it doesn’t seek to create competition for a top spot. Instead, it aims to point out a group of genuinely engaging, moving albums that we think listeners will genuinely enjoy. It also serves to expose readers to music they may not yet be aware of, and to introduce new art to our audience. We’ll be thrilled if you like the albums we’ve gathered here, but we’d also be more than happy to hear dissenting opinions. Please remember while reading this list: music is a purely subjective experience, and the goal of a music writer should merely be to spread the joy of listening, not to dictate what is good and bad taste.

In alphabetical order, here are our favorite albums of the year so far. We hope we can convince you to give these a listen.

Way Too Indie’s Best Albums of 2014 (So Far)

Angel Olsen – Burn Your Fire For No Witness

Angel Olsen caught a small handful of critics’ attention with her early releases of barren, haunting lo-fi folk. On Burn Your Fire for No Witness, elements of this sound still abound, but her new full band setup has allowed her to expand into previously uncovered territory. Burn is punchier, thornier, and often louder than anything in Olsen’s past; these qualities endow its lovelorn lyrics, which are a bit craftier than the words so often employed to describe these emotions, with a viable weapon to strike listeners’ ears and hearts.

The album’s first four minutes showcase Burn‘s two extremes with two different songs. The brief, percussion-less introductory track “Unfucktheworld” is a restricted, major-key, lo-fi folk tune which never once swears. It leads directly into “Forgiven/Forgotten”, in every way the opposite of “Unfucktheworld”: a bombastic percussive stomp is accompanied by equally forceful guitars and aching vocals. The album thereafter occupies either of these two states, treading the folk path on the breathtaking seven-minute “White Fire” and many of the less memorable ending tracks, and remaining electric on highlights such as “Hi-Five” and the album’s midsection.

It’s the midsection that I keep coming back to, actually: the three-punch blow of “High and Wild”, “Lights Out”, and “Stars” is matched by few albums I’ve heard. Angel Olsen’s breathy, almost faceless musing over the first of these tracks’ bouncing pianos and twangy guitars is instantly gripping. As the song progresses, Olsen’s vocals become far more emotive and engaging, and it goes out on a bang of low-pitched guitar lines, pounding percussion, and hyperactive pianos. “Lights Out” calms down thereafter, but is no less chilling: its cathedral-sized, pain-laced electric guitar strums accentuate Olsen’s story. The subtle shift in feel from the verses to the chorus in this song is devastating, and amplifies what might be the album’s most memorable and relatable lyric: “Some days all you need is one good thought strong in your mind.” The guitar-solo-that’s-not-quite-a-solo ending this song slowly introduces the ache embodied by follow-up “Stars”: “I think you like to see me lose my mind/you treat me like a child, I’m angry, blind” is maybe the most devastating couplet on record this year, matched only by the second verse’s “Well you could change my mind with just a smile.” The defeated guitars and PJ Harvey-esque vocal mannerisms opening the song lead to a harrowing but triumphant chorus, and Olsen rarely sounds more in control of her emotions. At the end of it all, it sounds like the Fire is slowly being put out.

Ava Luna – Electric Balloon

“Everybody says we’re talkin’/about the new sweet thang!” Becca Kaufman chirps on “Sears Roebuck M&Ms”, the inexplicably titled second track on Ava Luna’s sophomore effort Electric Balloon. She’s wrong, though: Ava Luna are the new sweet thang, and very few people are talking about them. Their Facebook page has fewer than six thousand likes, a testament to their relatively small audience. If more people heard Electric Balloon, this crowd would probably expand rapidly. With a sound that’s dangerously similar to supremely successful acts like Deerhoof, Dirty Projectors, and even Pixies, Ava Luna skillfully walk the line between blatantly copying their forebears and invigoratingly coalescing their styles into one savory, idiosyncratic blend.

“Daydream” opens Electric Balloon with a punk frenzy and throaty snarl ripped straight from Doolittle‘s recipe book, but sounds fresh and exciting thanks to its off-kilter rhythms and free-spirit female backing vocals. “Sears Roebuck M&Ms” is a funky strut down Deerhoof lane, but its alternating playful and armed vocals are an entirely more entrapping animal. “Crown” slowly expands from a self-described “nervous soul” jam into a bile-laced assortment of Dirty Projectors-like female vocal harmonies and vocalist Carlos Hernandez’ crazed wails of “I need a man!” These are merely the album’s first three tracks: in this short time, they brightly display the tinkering with their ancestors’ sounds that continues throughout Electric Balloon‘s funky, unpredictable, scattershot, addicting forty minutes.

For a one-song sampling of what makes Electric Balloon such an adventure, check “Plain Speech”: a ridiculously funky, arhythmic guitar line leads to vocals so intense you can envision the saliva shooting out from between Hernandez’ teeth, continuing for long enough to make the transition to its fuzzy, soul-indebted chorus 100% unexpected and successful. The song veers back and forth between these extremes at the most surprising times, and in the most unpredictable ways. It’s equal parts beautiful, riling, raucous, and skillful, and attests to the simultaneous oddity and spontaneity that make Electric Balloon such a thrill ride.

Cloud Nothings – Here and Nowhere Else

“I’m losing it, but what do I care?” shouts Cloud Nothings’ vocalist and chief songwriter Dylan Baldi during “Giving Into Seeing”, the fifth track on the band’s fourth and best album Here and Nowhere Else. This line briefly summarizes the entirety of the album’s lyrical themes: in just over half an hour, Baldi makes it clear that he has, for once, succeeded at moving past a shattered relationship. It’s Cloud Nothings’ most optimistic album to date, but it never sacrifices the bleakness and noise of their breakout Attack on Memory.

Here and Nowhere Else delves further into the berserk, noisy catharsis suggested by its predecessor. The percussion on this album is technically godly, the guitar work often abruptly shifts from melodic and gorgeous to extremely abrasive and dissonant, the tempo is rarely stable throughout the course of a song, and the veil of darkness shrouding Attack on Memory has been lightened. Lead single “I’m Not Part of Me” is thrilling in its sunnier take on Attack‘s already thrilling sound; “No Thoughts” is a Nevermind-reminiscent garage rock joy; “Quieter Today” is a masterclass in tempo and dynamic shifts.

Above all, though, these cathartic punk anthems are just catchy. Even “Psychic Trauma”, the album’s noisiest and most jagged tune, is undeniably poppy. “My mind is always wasted listening to you,” Baldi muses during this song’s chorus; luckily for fans, the exact opposite of this statement holds true while hearing Here and Nowhere Else.

How to Dress Well – “What Is This Heart?”

“What Is This Heart?” (yes, the quotation marks are part of the title) was heavily hyped by a small crowd of critics before being shot down by a larger group upon its release. There’s no denying that it lacks consistency — the 80s acoustics of “Repeat Pleasure” doesn’t belong on the same album as the glitchy trip-hop/R&B of “Very Best Friend” — and that it’s got a few unenjoyable tunes, but when this album succeeds, it strikes unforgettably.

Ignore the painful mistake that is “2 Years On”, this album’s opener, and you’re led to “What You Wanted” and “Face Again”, two deeply affecting R&B tunes with darkly crafted edges. Tracks like “A Power” and the almost groovy “Very Best Friend” continue in this path, the best of “WITH?”‘s several directions, excusing the cheesiness of a song like “Precious Love.” It’s “Words I Can’t Remember” that best attests to what this album can achieve when it’s properly focused: its fusion of vocal glitches, smoky synths, and haunting vocals draw out emotions that are bound to captivate listeners. That this album hosts enough tracks with this power excuses the assortment of questionable moments scattered throughout, and demands at least a few listens, if not more.

Hundred Waters – The Moon Rang Like a Bell

The Moon Rang Like a Bell is probably the year’s most subtle album so far. It dabbles in the minimal art-rock territory that the xx opened in 2009, and does so with a breathy, entrapping flair. Primarily vocal-based tracks like “Murmurs” and “Broken Blue” are held together by a relatively bare, but not quite absent, set of pianos, synths, and percussion. Elsewhere, soaring tunes like “Cavity”, “Xtalk”, and “[Animal]” emerge, expertly switching between subdued and more forward states in an artful way.

Even more impressive than how well these tunes are crafted is vocalist and lyricist Nicole Miglis’ use of emotion. These are all songs that are obviously near and dear to her heart, yet she never drowns listeners in pain. Both her voice and her band’s music are structured so that it would be impossible not to innately connect with the feelings presented; in other words, the music and the words get equal weight, yet the volume of these songs never overwhelms. A great example of this is “Down From the Rafters”, a song that adds and subtracts sonic layers often, and does so without muddling the message Miglis is sending. “Every morning’s like a climb from the rafters,” sighs Miglis in one of more than a few moments of heartfelt honesty. This trait is possibly Moon‘s most endearing quality: it’s an album that stares you straight in the face and tells you how it feels, both with words and with sounds. If you don’t hear what Hundred Waters is saying, you might just want to listen more closely — it’s there.

Kelis – Food

It’s impossible to discuss anything Kelis has done since 2003 without some mention of “Milkshake.” It’s a song she still plays live, one that she calls “super fun” and isn’t embarrassed about. It’s a great song, but it’s not at all representative of where she’s at now. Food, her most recent release, is a neo-soul album infused with brass instruments, funk rhythms, and jazz sparks, but it’s no less enjoyable than “Milkshake.” In fact, some of her most tender moments to date are captured here.

Food is Kelis’ first record for an independent label, Ninja Tune; as such, only she and her two collaborators (as compared to the vast array of names who contributed to, say, Flesh Tone) control what’s here. With TV on the Radio’s Dave Sitek and composer/arranger Todd Simon at her side, Kelis commands an army of emotive, unguarded sounds. Smoky soul tunes such as “Breakfast”, “Floyd”, and “Runner” directly impact receptive ears; riskier, less traditional tunes such as “Fish Fry” and “Cobbler” are equally as captivating. Kelis treads quite a few paths on Food, and often with a great deal of success: after she claims “We got this!” on opener “Jerk Ribs”, she spends the rest of the album proving it.

Makthaverskan – II

“Fuck you, fuck you!” To hear a woman whose first language isn’t English bitterly wailing this statement over roaring, windy guitars and cutting percussion is a fantastic way to start an album. II, the second (duh) album from these five Swedes, instantly declares that it doesn’t give a damn about subtlety. No instrument or lyric is ever restricted: over thirty-three minutes, Makthaverskan present an exercise in bluntness.

II is crystal clear in every way imaginable. The arrangements and production are near-perfect, and every instrument receives the proper space. The guitars range from atmospheric to pummeling, yet never lose their new wave speckle; the drums are gripping even at their most blurry; Maja Milner’s vocals cut through any and all instrumentals that her band provides.

Milner’s vocals are the true clincher here. A small sampling of her lyrics gets the point across: “It’s not me you’re dreaming of!” (“Asleep”); “Let me take off/this shirt and we’ll make love” (“Slowly Sinking”); “You outshine them all!” (“Outshine”); “Fuck you for fucking me/when I was seventeen!” (“No Mercy”). That last line is a great representation of what makes II so excellent: despite English being her second language, Milner chooses her simple words precisely, and sings them more clearly than a good number of native speakers. Their fierceness matches the intensity of her band, ensuring that II won’t be forgotten any time soon.

St. Vincent – St. Vincent

St. Vincent, real name Annie Clark, is arguably the most blogged about artist of the year so far, although she’s been doing this for a while. It’s incredible to see how far she’s come since her timid, eerie 2007 debut Marry Me; that album, a doe-eyed collection of oddball love songs, couldn’t have possibly predicted the confidence and otherworldliness of her self-titled fourth effort. It’s an album that received enough attention to earn her a musical guest slot on SNL, and one the likes of which we may never encounter again.

“Rattlesnake” is an excellent choice to begin this journey: its Atari percussion and wobbly, funky synths immediately declare that this is an extraterrestrial album, and it’s feet-shaking guitar riff builds to a star-shooting solo that’s as enthralling as an interplanetary tour. “Birth in Reverse” follows, absolutely exploding into the new world crafted by its predecessor: it’s easily the most technical guitar work she’s ever showcased, and it’s probably the most electrifying song of both her career and the year thus far. Songs like “Digital Witness”, “Bring Me Your Loves” and “Every Tear Disappear” continue this fucked-up funk stutter, each one proudly displaying the stamp of former tourmate David Byrne’s influence while thrilling in a way that only Clark is capable of.

Indeed, St. Vincent is Clark’s most singular album to date. It’s stuffed to the brim with ideas and oddities, all of which succeed mightily in their missions. “Regret” and “Psychopath” show what happens when a weirdo like Clark tries to write straightforward pop songs; “I Prefer Your Love” is one of the most heartbreaking fusions of theatricality and slow-burning tenderness on record.

Of course, though, this album can’t be discussed without mentioning “Huey Newton”, the song that best represents everything that makes Annie Clark so great: a hazy, haunting set of light synths and pulsing bass deftly builds tension, ensuring that the song’s shift into near-metal, horrifyingly heavy guitar-shuffling territory is fully unexpected. These dramatic and sudden transitions are nothing new for Clark, an established guitar master; that she pulls it off the best she ever has on this album only hints at just how stupidly engaging St. Vincent is.

Sylvan Esso – Sylvan Esso

From the ashes of Megafaun rise Sylvan Esso. But you needn’t know that to enjoy this duo’s self-titled debut: their music is catchy enough to need no introduction. The folk- and minimal-influenced electropop they advance is reserved enough to emotionally bind listeners, and poppy enough to jam out to. “Could I Be” is a hypnotic, translucent tune that’s as chill as it is meaty; “Dress” undercuts peppiness with hip-hop groove and flow.

“Coffee” is the one you might’ve heard; it’s a pretty good summary of why Sylvan Esso are so engaging. The vocals on the song are heartfelt and warming, yet are never overwhelming; this description can also be applied to the instrumental part. Together, the two parts intertwine to form a very hooky whole, a goal achieved often on Sylvan Esso. Good luck breaking away from this one.

TEEN – The Way and Color

Earlier in this article, I discussed how St. Vincent’s music sounds like it was delivered here from another planet, a description commonly applied to her sound. TEEN, maybe the only band whose music bears any similarity to the 2014 version of Annie Clark, also sounds like they’re sending their signals from another plane of existence. Perhaps the reason both these acts display this quality is that music runs in their blood; Clark is the niece of guitar-based jazz beasts Tuck & Patti, and TEEN’s three Lieberson sisters (bassist Boshra AlSaadi is the only of TEEN’s four members who isn’t from the family) are the offspring of famed, legendary opera composer Peter Lieberson.

Skillful arrangements and astute melodies flow naturally throughout TEEN’s sophomore effort, The Way and Color. The Lieberson sisters’ genetics endow them with the innate ability to compose surprisingly catchy, perpetually flowering capsules of R&B-influenced psych pop. Chromatic synths mesh with Kristina “Teeny” Lieberson’s (hence the band’s name) incredibly dynamic, all-fitting voice, with AlSaadi’s bass and the remaining sisters’ vocal harmonies adding the necessary final flourishes. The result achieved is equal parts trippy and tuneful, and is pretty difficult to turn a deaf ear to.

Songs like “Rose 4 U” and “Tied Up, Tied Down” are both fun and eccentric, while other songs like “More Than I Ask For” and “All The Same” are a bit more contemplative. “Breathe Low and Deep” is its own universe, its second half of psychedelic synths and masked brass escalating towards a climax that feels infinite. There’s also “Sticky”, a song melodic and blissful enough that it can be easy to miss its intensely personal discussion of abortion and motherhood. Once the words are clear, the song becomes even more colorful; even before that, though, The Way and Color is vivid and unflinching.

tUnE-yArDs – Nikki Nack

Nikki Nack is tUnE-yArDs’ Contra: just as Vampire Weekend’s second album had people wondering if the band had become too eccentric for their own good, Merrill Garbus’ third album under her kooky moniker turned away some fans with its supreme quirkiness. But look at her songwriting name: the way it’s spelled, with those alternating caps, declares its idiosyncrasies immediately. What else would you expect?

Were you looking for another w h o k i l l? No, Nikki Nack isn’t as fiery and confrontational as its predecessor, but expecting another album of that caliber was your first mistake. Instead, Nikki Nack is an indulgent, overwhelming, childish slurry of various berserk elements. Bassist Nate Brenner is no less present here, the percussion is more fittingly awkward than ever, and Garbus’ vocals haven’t lost their “oh my god who sings like THAT?” quality. What’s new and odd to some listeners is the near complete lack of Garbus’ signature ukulele in favor of warbly, borderline cheesy synths.

Really, the album borders on the edge of unbridled corniness throughout its entire run; that it never crosses the line is a huge factor in its success. First single “Water Fountain” is a prime example of how stupid this album can get, but it’s just so catchy. “Sink-O” throws just about everything possible in listeners’ faces, and its often inane lyrics add to the juvenile joy. Yet there’s a pretty hefty one that sneaks in there: “If I went up to your door you wouldn’t let me in/so don’t say you don’t judge by the color of skin.” For all its deliberate immaturity, Nikki Nack really throws some important topics in the mix, as made clear by tunes like “Real Thing”, “Manchild”, and “Wait for a Minute.” Following the advice of the latter song will probably help in enjoying Nikki Nack: wait for a minute, and the initial strangeness of this album will transform into something wholly addicting and undeniable.

The War on Drugs – Lost in the Dream

I started this article with a discussion of the hype machine. Lost in the Dream is an album I had in mind when bringing up that point: critics have adorned this album with particularly strong praise, so much so that, on first listen, I wondered what they were hearing. After the critical storm passed, however, I found my ears more receptive and willing to form an opinion that remained my own, yet aligned closely with the popular notion. I’ll still insist that this album, the third effort from these Americana-indebted Philly natives, isn’t as great as the blogosphere dictates, but it’s still pretty damn good regardless.

Lost in the Dream can be very simply described with a small handful of words: introspective, gorgeous, rustic. Its lyrics stem from the post-tour and post-breakup depression songwriter Adam Granduciel experienced after touring his band’s sophomore effort Slave Ambient; the arrangements are paralyzing and mountainous; the instrumentation’s blend of Americana and folk influences often draws to mind images of sunny, breezy, vast spaces. This approach is always affecting, whether through the sunset beauty of “Disappearing”, the heartwrenching soar of “Under the Pressure”, or the Springsteen-recalling grandeur of “Burning.” Ultimately, though, it’s “Red Eyes” that attests to how far Granduciel has come: a tune that’s likely to appear towards the top of many best-songs-of-the-year-lists late this December, it’s emotional melodies and inward lyricism transform into fireworks right before its shimmering, arresting, guitar-based chorus. This impact is more subtle in other places on Lost in the Dream, but it’s omnipresence ensures that it won’t be missed no matter how quiet it is.

White Hex – Gold Nights

On a hunch, I’d guess that Gold Nights is the least well-known album on this list. Makes sense: this is an album that sounds like it’s watching everyone from an invisible corner, making harsh judgments with a frosty gust. It’s very creepy and unnerving in its simultaneous embrace of Cure-style guitar tones, Ladytron-inspired vocal roboticism, and Chromatics-based synth-guitar interplay and stutter. It struts right in with the icy, callous “Only a Game”, a tune that sounds like it’s emanating from where the highest-ranked wolf in the pack howls. Gold Nights then loses none of its opener’s grating, caustic iciness, ensuring an experience that’s harrowing in a different way than many albums are.

“Paradise”, the album’s strongest tune, follows “Only a Game”, and its differences from the rest of the pack shine a light on what makes this album so good. Most of Gold Nights exists in sub-zero temperatures: it’s an album so cold you can almost feel its bite directly on your skin. “Paradise”, on the other hand, is a skyward, cutting slab of 21st century new wave. The vocals are no less haunting here, but the sheer size of the synths presented make this tune a good notch warmer than the rest. This added feeling becomes especially apparent when this song is compared to later tracks like “Burberry Congo” and “United Colours of KL”, tunes with synth parts so bitter and dark they’re almost goofy. The cold that pervades Gold Nights is its most consistent strength, and it’s interesting that “Paradise” accentuates this quality. Wear a winter jacket for this one.

White Lung – Deep Fantasy

By far the shortest album on this list, Deep Fantasy is irresistible simply because of how quick and intense its ten blasts of raucous, 90s-indebted punk are. At a total of twenty-two minutes, Fantasy doesn’t allow time for its listeners to fantasize at all despite its name: these songs are over almost as soon as they begin. That’s not to say they don’t develop thrillingly over their short runtime, though: tracks like “Face Down”, “Wrong Star”, and “Snake Jaw” owe such a distinct debt to riot grrrl and grunge that each passing section of the song is blood-rushing.

White Lung’s worship of the 1990s can’t quite attest to the breakneck paces of these songs, though: “Lucky One” and “Down It Goes” are so rapid it’s head-spinning. It all sounds like if the more surf-heavy side of classic grunge had sped up their songs so much that they verged on metal territory. In fact, “I Believe You” and “Drown With the Monster” may damn well be better described as metal than as punk. The latter song’s commanding, confrontational guitars match the vitriol of its addiction-analyzing lyrics, and topics as heavy as these are common on Deep Fantasy. That White Lung’s guitars often match in intensity is a victory all around.

Wye Oak – Shriek

Shriek is a grower and not a shower. Actually, it’s a bit of the latter too: the album’s flashy, sauntering synths instantly attract attention even in their first appearances. This characteristic provides a good foundation for getting to know the ten songs occupying Shriek, but an initial batch of listens shows that it isn’t quite enough. Instead, to build on the intentional omission of guitar on this album, Wye Oak provide flowing bass and breathy, introspective vocals courtesy of Jenn Wasner, and these are elements that reveal themselves over time.

Lots and lots of time, that is. Whereas tunes like “The Tower” and “Glory” are immediately hooky and irresistible, much of Shriek‘s remainder feels distant until more listens than you can count on your hands have passed. You might be asking, “Why should I try this album if I need to invest so much to enjoy it?” The answer is actually quite simple: give these songs the attention they demand, and you’ll find yourself entangled in their web of gorgeously dreamy emotions and lush sonic textures. A psych-folk tune like “School of Eyes” becomes a blustery, engaging heart-warmer after feeling cold and untouchable; a meditation like “I Know the Law” transforms from an uninterestingly timid passage to an entrapping contemplation. And when these tunes don’t quite feel like enough, it’s easy to turn straight to the intensely catchy, funky “Glory”, the song that most strongly attests to how powerful Wye Oak can sound when they achieve the best possible combination of vocals, synth, and bass.

Earlier this year, I wrote here about my disappointment with Perfect Pussy’s Say Yes to Love , and cited its length (or, rather, lack thereof) as one of its major flaws. It’s easy to get the notion, then, that I think albums need to be a certain length to succeed, but read more closely — this isn’t why Say Yes to Love failed. That album was a letdown because its shortness blurred all its songs together into one murky, indistinct, relatively uncompelling unit; when it wasn’t doing that, it was disguising noise as melody. A few moments stuck out in this haze, but not enough to excuse such a short runtime.

By contrast, White Lung’s Deep Fantasy, their debut for Domino Records (but their third album overall), is fifty seconds shorter than Say Yes to Love, but it’s far more cathartic, show-stopping, and memorable. Deep Fantasy is rife with guttural riffing, mountainous percussion, and harrowing vocals courtesy of feminist blogger Mish Way, and this formulation very rarely tires over the album’s twenty-two minute runtime. Fantasy‘s lyrics, which deal with topics such as consoling a rape victim, overcoming drug abuse, and living with body dysmorphia, are as potent and intense as its instrumentation; both these characteristics expertly recall the grunge and riot grrrl movements.

Deep Fantasy blazes through the gate immediately with opener and lead single “Drown With the Monster”, arguably the most addicting punk anthem of the year so far. Actually, the punk label adorned here is a bit misleading: “Drown With the Monster” verges on heavy metal territory. The rapid, churning guitars underlying its verses wouldn’t sound out of place on a recent Exodus album, and Mish Way’s vocals are delivered in a wailing beckon faintly reminiscent of any of Arch Enemy’s rotating female lead vocalists. In its two minutes, “Drown” tackles Way’s substance abuse with fearlessness and vigor; in fact, by turning her problems into a veritable headbanger of a rally cry, she’s drowned the monster in its place.

“Down It Goes” follows, and it begins in a similar vein as “Drown” before transitioning into sunny, beachy grunge-punk, something like you’d hear on an early Sleater-Kinney tune. “I am not as strong as you, but I am everywhere!” Way affirms over an instrumental palette that’s just as serene as it is alarming. “Snake Jaw” and “Face Down” continue this sonic path, but each refines it differently: the former adds a tad more bleakness to match its lyrical exploration of body dysmorphia, whereas the latter may be the most outrightly grungy, 90s-absorbed tune present.

Of course, a band as fierce as White Lung will only briefly allow itself this moment of relative sunshine: “I Believe You” reintroduces the heaviness and force of “Drown With the Monster”, and covers more territory than many of Deep Fantasy‘s songs despite being the album’s second shortest. “Yeah, I believe you! Girl, you’re so strong!” Way reassures a friend recovering from the trauma of rape, a powerful moment made even more intense by her band’s intermittent, dark guitar pummels and searing treble lines. “Wrong Star” offers a moment to breathe after “I Believe You”, trading in the latter’s heaviness for a less overwhelming tone, but no slower a pace.

“Just for You” and “Sycophant”, which follow next, in that order, are slightly less gripping than the rest of the album, marking one of Deep Fantasy‘s two very mildly less engaging sequences. “Lucky One” breaks up these two moments, its unreasonably shrill and rapid guitars instantly hooky. In particular, the song’s chorus is really entrapping, as its low-rumbling guitars offer a surprising and engaging change-up from the song’s mostly bright but enthralling riffing.

Ending the album is “In Your Home”, a track that’s notably different from the rest of the album. Easily the slowest (although it’s still pretty high-tempo) tune here, “In Your Home” gives up some of the near-omnipresent aggression of Deep Fantasy in favor of an unexpected bit of melancholy. Although the song is likable, it’s not quite as viscerally enjoyable as the rest of Deep Fantasy, but its placement as the album’s final track does offer a necessary comedown from the rushing adrenaline preceding it.

“Take these sights in!” commands Mish Way near the beginning of Deep Fantasy. With just twenty-two minutes of runtime, this album rarely loses focus, keeping listeners in line all the while. Short collections as engaging as this one aren’t so easy to come by, so it doesn’t take much effort to become entrapped in this Fantasy.